Mourning Tea
by Don'ttellmybrotherIwrotethis
Summary: Ballonlea isn't always the best place to live, and this isn't just because of fairies. Polteageists are not good house guests.
1. Chapter 1

It had seemed like a good idea two weeks ago. Galar loved tea. Galar adored tea. A shop catering to the discerning tea-drinkers of Ballonlea could, should only have been destined for success. It was a small town but had many travelers coming for the Gym and locals who were mad about a good cuppa.

This shopkeeper had grand ambitions for a shop. We shall call him Tim. Tim had bought an empty cottage and moved over from Kalos with a number of beautiful glazed porcelain pieces. Delicate, elegant, simple, complicated, functional... He made or sold any type of teapot.

Of course, he'd forgotten a crucial step in his designs for the perfect business. He'd forgotten to research the area's wildlife. This was the kind of hubris that had led to a haunted grocery store being featured in Alola's island challenge. There was catastrophic failure for a similar reason. It should have been fine in the middle of a town and wasn't some kind of sacred ground and yet...

The shopkeeper reached for his morning beverage and, in a sleepy haze, swirled a spoonful of sugar into the liquid. He waited to let the tea cool a bit and indulge in the quotidian ritual of relaxation. Tim stirred for sixty seconds to give himself time. As Tim lifted the cup to drink, he realized this was not the teacup he'd been using thirty seconds ago. The man sighed deeply.

"Not again..."

He set the now-dizzy Sinistea aside and reached for the real cup of tea. He checked three times to make sure it was the correct vessel while the haunted cup teetered about uncertainly. For one brief moment, Tim worried that the ghost might actually vomit. Much to his disappointment, the entertainment could not last forever. He didn't even bother stopping the small cup from floating to the sugar bowl and the small purple hand from scooping up sugar.

Tim ignored the packet of Earl Gray that dropped onto his shoulder and slid off. The floral pattern teapot which dropped the bag bumped into a Clefable-shaped mug on the way to watch the news. Tim went to the fridge for milk. When he reached the fridge he paused, pressed an ear to the door, and decided to have plain tea. Refrigerators should not have bloodcurdling shrieks pulled straight from the depths of Giratina's realm. He didn't bother answering the ringing, yet disconnected wall phone. His Rotom Phone advised strongly against it unless he wanted to die in a week.

Tim wondered if he had enough budget left from the business capital to get some Pokéballs. About a fourth of his inventory was now directly possessed and he was not happy the walls had been running red with sinister messages written in blood. Playing piano no longer was the same either: The perfectly tuned baby grand played in only minor keys ever since the invasion. Shadows reached out to grab him during the morning routine and he was glad he wasn't using a razor at that moment. Since he was in the middle of brushing his teeth, Tim had ended up losing a toothbrush to the apparition and accidentally spat toothpaste on the ghastly (But not Ghastly) reflection.

If he called in trainers to catch these Pokémon, Tim had no illusions about how much collateral damage there would be. He was mentally flipping back and forth between just accepting the haunting or putting up a sign by the Gym to get help when his toaster made a ding.

_As long as there is toast and tea, I think I can live with a few spirits, _Tim thought to himself. Tim ducked below a silver antique teapot and reached to the beautiful, perfect carbonated breakfast bread.

* * *

Outside the teapot and pottery shop, Opal heard a small whine. This whine made a dramatic crescendo into a loud man's shriek which wavered between fear and outrage. It reached a piercing climax of volume that made people on the other side of town to look out their windows in alarm. The door swung open to reveal a man in dripping pajamas. Drops of tea puddled on the ground as he stared at Opal, who stared back. A layer of breadcrumbs graced his hair.

"I'm headed to the Pokécenter to make a job listing. The shop will be open later. Terribly sorry about the inconvenience, Ma'am." The pajama-clad man fled in the direction of the Pokécenter.

Opal decided not to point out the way all of the shop signs now read things such as, "Diediediediediediedie," and "Antique silver teapot used by a queen! Could be yours for the price of YOUR SOUL." She let Tim leave and returned to her theater after calling Allister.

* * *

_Maybe I'll use Milquery for next chapter if this nonsense continues. Original title was "The Darwin Awards Theory of Pok_é_mon Evolution" but I worried it might give people the impression I wouldn't stay G-rated. Also had to fix my spelling since it is Ballonlea and not Ballonea._


	2. Chapter 2

Bede stomped down the streets of Ballonea whilst flipping his hair. It gave people the impression of getting glared at by a pale incarnation of irritated teen made manifest.

Sorry, I need to correct that. Bede walked in a fashionably pink manner down the streets of Ballonea and did a marvelous job of containing his righteous fury.

How _dare_ Opal. Ballonea was _his_ gym town and _his_ responsibility. Why would she go and call another person to solve a Pokémon problem? Did she have no confidence in him and his ability, his potential, his training!? He did have to acknowledge that Allister was a talented trainer for someone so young. Still, this was Bede's turf.

Bede stalked to the newly opened tea supply store and paused to read one of the signs on the front. ("Please, leave your body and soul at the door.") He reached to open the door and felt a chill trickle down his spine. He did not admit fear to himself. Bede took a moment to let Hatterene out of her Pokéball before placing a hand on the shop door and pushing.

As a kid, Bede hadn't had much chances to get a turn on the Nintendo controller. One part of Super Marill 64 had actually given him nightmares as a child. The Big Banette's Haunt had a particular location that featured prominently.

Bede made the grave mistake of walking through the shop room with the piano.

Three different and loud events happened in quick succession.

The first event was that the piano moved towards Bede with the sound of heavy wood on wood crashing and the simultaneous banging of all the keys at once.

The second event was Bede's reaction. Opal was not present to hear the un-fairylike yelp of terror from the boy. Bede should have done a girly shriek or, better yet, stood unmoved with a look of disdain. Many cat-type Pokémon have this disdain naturally and would have started to wash themselves as the piano did its thing. They are masters and Bede was not. He had a manly yelp which would have earned a disapproving scribble from Opal.

The third event was the Hatterene taking swift action against the threat to her trainer. She screamed a battle cry. Dark Pulse smashed apart the possessed hardwood instrument.

The combined cacophony sounded like, "CLONGAAAAUGHHATTREEEENCRUNCHCRASH!"

Or something like that.

* * *

Tim, although not exactly relaxed per se, was improving. He sat across from Allister at the kitchen table but wasn't moving the planchette or touching his cards.

Allister finally said something after waiting. "...Your turn..."

Tim did not move. The Polteageist with the yellow square teapot shuffled his hand of cards impatiently.

"...Do you need the rules again?..." Seance Poker was a new game for Tim, maybe he just needed a review. Allister was hoping that they'd make some way on getting Tim started talking to the ghosts so they could get some agreements made. Allister and his Gengar had worked hard on convincing Tim to walk back through his own front door. In his living area the sofa was occupied by Cursola, Dusknoir, two Rotom Phones, and a Mimikyu. Two Polteageists, Allister, Tim, and the Gengar were seated or floating around the table with cards in their hands. The table rotated slightly while keeping just a few inches off the ground. Allister and Tim were firmly on their chairs that were touching the ground, but Tim still looked ready to fall off the chair at any time.

"...I have to go? I mean, I'm not going to be cursed if I win this round too, right?"

Allister's creepy mask moved from side to side along with Allister's head in a gesture which Tim assumed to be a no.

"I mean, he isn't gonna accuse me of cheating again andsweetmotherofMewdon'tcursemepleaseit'sasequentialset!" This last word/sentence was addressed to a now grumpy looking Gengar. Tim dropped his hand onto the table to reveal his cards were Death, the Tower, and the nineteenth through twenty-first of swords.

Allister was giving a meaningful look to the Gengar and about to tell him off for bad sportsmanship when they heard the clamor from the piano/shop room.

Tim fell out of his chair. Within seconds the room was filled with possessed pottery hiding behind, or under, furniture. A teapot and a mug ducked under the tablecloth. Allister found a flock of teacups pressing against him for protection. It was now clear which Pokémon were Allister's; Even before the flock of teacups had appeared from nowhere a set of ghosts situated themselves between the sound and the small boy.

Bede stomped through the doorway and glared at the horde of terrified ghosts, the gym leader, and the man on the floor. Bede pointed to Tim. "Are you the idiot who was not only stupid enough to have a teapot store in the Glimwood Tangle, but to have one unguarded by Pokemon or cleanse tags!?"

In response to the boy, Tim nodded. He started to say something but Bede was taking control of the conversation.

"I'm the gym leader here and if there are problems, you should be coming to me." Bede looked down at Allister. "You. I've got things taken care of now, you can go."

Tim said, "What was that sound?!"

"A piano may have been damaged."

"GRANDPA'S PIANO?!"

"Look, you need to do a better job at controlling your piano. It's not my fault your piano is poorly disciplined."

Allister and the ghosts looked on where surprise previously had been seated and now was shoved aside unceremoniously by the spirit of discord and strife. Allister would have left. He would rather have been anywhere else at the moment, but he didn't want to push aside the quivering flock of levitating teacups. After about a half hour of verbal sallies and assaults on mental facilities, Bede became the third gym leader in Galarian history to become banned from a tea store. (He was the only one banned for his own direct actions.)

* * *

_It has come to my attention that I'm not the first person to think of Allister being on call for ghost problems. Some people did the same concept, but better. Oh well. Can't be mad when people write good stuff because then I get to read it. I've also played a Hat in Time recently and now I can't unsee Snatcher in a teapot._


End file.
